Chapter 4
1264 Words
EDWARD
I don’t text her right away.
I should.
I want to.
But I force myself to wait, phone resting heavy in my palm as I sit behind the counter pretending to close registers and wipe down machines I already cleaned an hour ago. I picture her in class, head bent over notes, fighting to stay focused the way she always does. I don’t want to distract her.
Not yet.
When I finally do unlock my phone, I keep it simple. Safe.
Edward: You coming by tonight?
Three dots appear almost immediately. Disappear. Reappear.
Good. She’s thinking.
I imagine her face right now — that crease between her brows when she’s overwhelmed, the way she chews the inside of her lip when she’s trying to decide how honest to be. I imagine her phone lighting up again and again, the sponsorship emails crashing into her life all at once.
I know she’s shaken.
That was always part of it.
I just didn’t expect how badly I’d want to be there when it hit.
The bell over the door rings at exactly 7:42 p.m.
I don’t need to look up.
I feel her.
The air shifts, like it always does when she walks in. Like the room remembers her even before my eyes do. I lift my head slowly, deliberately, because if I rush it I’ll give myself away.
She’s standing just inside the door, fingers curled tight around her phone, shoulders tense like she’s bracing for impact.
Grace.
Her eyes find mine instantly.
And there it is.
The smile.
Not carefree — not yet — but real. Softer than the one she wears when she’s pretending everything’s fine. This one looks earned. Fragile. Like she’s afraid it might break if she breathes wrong.
I set the cup down before she even orders.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she replies, quieter than usual.
She walks toward the counter slowly, like she’s not sure where to put all the extra emotion buzzing inside her. When she stops in front of me, I can see it clearly now — the weight that’s been lifted, even if she doesn’t fully trust it yet.
“You okay?” I ask.
She lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
I lean my forearms on the counter, keeping my distance. Giving her room.
“Good day bad?” I ask.
“Good,” she says immediately. Then hesitates. “Really good. Just… overwhelming.”
I nod, like this is the first I’m hearing of it.
She takes a breath, then another.
“My tuition got paid today,” she says, the words still sounding unreal in her mouth. “All of it. Someone sponsored me. Like—fully. As long as I’m enrolled.”
I watch her face instead of reacting right away. Watch the way her eyes search mine, like she’s afraid I won’t believe her.
“That’s incredible,” I say finally, and I mean it. “I’m really happy for you.”
Her shoulders drop just a fraction.
“I cried,” she admits. “In the parking lot. In front of everyone.”
“Sounds justified to me.”
She laughs softly, wiping at the corner of her eye. “I don’t even know who to thank. They didn’t leave a name. Just… fixed everything and disappeared.”
I meet her gaze and hold it steady.
“Maybe they didn’t want anything from you,” I say. “Maybe they just wanted to help.”
Something flickers across her expression — doubt, curiosity, something dangerously close to suspicion.
But then she shakes her head.
“I don’t know why I’m even talking like this,” she says. “It’s just… weird. Life doesn’t usually do this.”
“No,” I agree quietly. “It doesn’t.”
She takes a sip of her coffee, hands trembling just enough for me to notice.
She has no idea how close she is to the truth.
And I intend to keep it that way — for now.
Grace
don’t know why I came here.
That’s a lie.
I know exactly why.
Because after today — after the emails, the notifications, the impossible relief of it all — the only person I wanted to see was him. The one constant in my nights. The one person who always looks at me like I’m not invisible.
Edward.
He’s behind the counter like always. Same dark shirt. Same rolled sleeves. Same calm presence that makes my chest feel less tight the second I walk in.
But tonight feels different.
Everything does.
I tell him about the sponsorship because I can’t not say it out loud. Because if I don’t, it might not be real. And when he doesn’t question it — doesn’t doubt me — something in me loosens.
He’s happy for me.
Genuinely.
“I keep waiting for someone to email me and say it was a mistake,” I admit. “Like—sorry, wrong Grace Andrews.”
He smiles, slow and reassuring. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“How do you know?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just a feeling.”
I hesitate, then say the thing I’ve been trying not to think about all day.
“I had this stupid thought earlier,” I admit. “And I know it’s ridiculous.”
He tilts his head slightly. “What thought?”
I laugh nervously. “That maybe… someone who knows me did it. Someone who sees me struggle.”
His eyes darken just a little.
“Maybe,” he says.
I shake my head. “No. That’s stupid. I don’t know anyone who could do something like this.”
I don’t say his name.
But it sits between us anyway.
Because he does see me. He notices things. He remembers details. He looks at me like I matter — and today, someone proved that I do.
I change the subject, afraid of where my thoughts are going.
“So… I got your text,” I say. “I almost didn’t come. I didn’t trust myself not to cry again.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says.
So am I.
The shop hums softly around us, empty except for the two of us and the quiet understanding settling into place. This doesn’t feel like flirting. It feels like something steadier. Something deeper.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve today,” I say quietly.
He meets my eyes, expression unreadable.
“You worked for it,” he says. “Even when no one was watching.”
My throat tightens.
I don’t know how long we stand there like that — just talking, just existing — but when I finally glance at the clock, I’m startled by how late it’s gotten.
“I should go,” I say reluctantly.
He nods, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me feel like he doesn’t want me to.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks.
I smile. “Yeah. Same time.”
As I turn to leave, my phone buzzes again.
Another email.
SPONSORSHIP CONFIRMATION: Ongoing — Active for Duration of Enrollment
I stop at the door, breath catching.
Behind me, Edward watches quietly.
I don’t know who changed my life today.
But I know one thing for sure:
Whatever this is between us — whatever is building in the space of late nights and quiet conversations —
It’s only just beginning.
- Writer
